Defining a Hero
by DreamEscape16
Summary: When a remarkable young man races into Steve's life, both of their worlds change completely. Now he's faced with a difficult choice that he's never thought he would ever have to make again: becoming a big brother to the fastest man alive or a mentor to a young hero who lacks discipline. (Flash and Captain America crossover)
1. Chapter 1

**Defining a Hero**

**All characters belong to Marvel and DC Comics**

**I own nothing**

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><p>It was a very early December morning, Captain Steve Rogers pounded his feet aimlessly against the ice encased cement that around the National Mall. His massive body cut through the white curtains of flurries like a silver bullet against winter's fury.<p>

He felt the benumbing wind slashed over his chiseled jawline as he sprinted fervently against the wispy flecks of snow whipped and obstructed his bleary vision as his stern crystal blue eyes focused ahead of him.

"Right to left," he panted out, feeling the frost air enter his lungs as it seared the bones of his rib cage. He was doing his morning routine, staring at four in the morning before hitting the gym. It was normal start of his day. Sam Wilson his new wing man was overseas with Tony Stark testing out flight equipment. He was alone during his three mile traverse.

The cold barely affected him, because the super-soldier serum laced in his heats kept his body temperature at a higher level than the average human being. Heavy flows of blood pumped fast in his veins; his broad and vigorous muscles burned as feverish sweat expelled from his pores. Steve felt the firm skin of his pectorals ripple underneath the layer of his gray hooded sweater. Golden tresses of hair swathed over his gleaming forehead as he made his sharp turn and steadied his breath. Then suddenly, his bones were jostled by a surge of energy, a bright red streak invaded his gaze; making him halt in his tracks within a second he saw drops of maroon paint over the crisp blanket of snow in front of him.

He blinked to regain of his vision before he froze within a heartbeat, and blankly stared down at the figure in red leaning against the frozen bark of oak, clutching his wounded side. Cautiously, Steve neared closer, just enough to stare at a young man dressed in a skin tight dark maroon uniform with a cowl covering his face. His heart flipped -flop in his chest, as he leveled his blue eyes with teary grayish seawater colored eyes, and watched a line of watery blood trickle over the strong jawline. He kept his distance, showing the other man that he wasn't a threat. "Excuse me?" he raised his voice, firm and ragged with a hint of concern. "Can I help you out there, son?" he asked, knowing that whoever it was hiding behind the cowl, the boy was around early twenties and lacked discipline. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I see that you're bleeding."

"I made a wrong turn," That was the first thing the young man uttered out before a small crooked smirk crossed his split lips, and then a shy, embarrassed grimace. He labored out heavy coattails of breath as his strained chest heaved against his armor. He spared a glance at Steve, unsure and a bit guarded, and then he blinked the red fog out of his glazed blue eyes. He was bleeding and bruised. "This wasn't out I wanted to start my morning." He hoarsely said, lowering his head down, and sucking in an intake of cold air. "I think I need a coffee...My sugar levels are down. This is bad."

"I take it you don't live in the city?" Steve affirmed hushed and serene; inching closer to wounded man, braying out rapid breaths. "I can help you, but you need to tell me your name in case you pass out, son."

"I am Flash. My home is Central City...I would give you more details, but at the moment I'm a tough time figuring out even I stand on my own feet." he smirked, and latched his hand over the tree for support. "Yeah, I know that you seem a bit confused about me...I'm fastest man alive when it comes to saving people and sometimes the slowest when talking to strangers."

Steve smiled back despite the rife of his concern for the hero, and extended his hand out, "Steve Rogers," he said, watching the Flash's eyes light up with bewilderment as his gloved hand gripped over his with a firm shake of introduction. " I take it that you have heard about me, Flash?"

Flash nodded, his heart thudding against his fractured ribs. "You're..." He took a moment to gather something intelligent to say back to the towering super-soldier. He swallowed a lump down his throat. Reality snapped back into his disjointed mind. "You're him...Captain America...The Living Legend." he responded with an admiration in his raspy voice. "It's a great honor to meet you, sir."

"Thank you, Flash." Steve said, his blue eyes gleamed with trusting light, and he took a step back, admiring the Flash's costume. "I like you uniform, a classic emblem of power and the mask reminds me of my own helmet, except for the lightning bolts at the ears."

"Anything you say I will take as a complement, Captain Rogers." Flash lightly smirked, trying to ignore the thralls of pain twist in his abdominal muscles. "I can't believe that this actually happening to me...I never thought it was possible fora little guy like me to meet Captain America." Steve placed a gloved hand over his broad shoulder.

" I believe in the impossible, but meeting you has given me the strength I need to carry out this fight-" he stammered, feeling his stomach churning as drops of blood dripped from his blemished lips. His head was ringing in pain and everything obscured into a crimson vortex, every image of his past-his mother's lifeless body, cell bars and Iris dissolve with a haze. His lips stung where it had been split by a ramming fist, his temples were throbbing, and he gripped Steve's strong as an anchor to harbor him back to conscious as the world fell way. The taste of molten copper greeted him, he could smell the drenched blood over his suit, and listened his own powerful heart pounding in his ears, blocking out the only thing that he saw was darkness. Steve knew that he needed medical assistance. Fast.

"Flash," he whispered soft and unimposing; he secured the young man under his arm, like a brother in arms. "Can you hear me?" he issued, applying pressure of the gaping wound. "Stay with me, son."

Flash coughed up more blood, crying helplessly, and droplets spattering over his jaw from his mouth and dotting his ashen skin. "Blood...Poisoned...Toxin." he gagged and gasped. "I'd tried to save..." he struggled through gritted teeth, spitting out blood over Steve's sweater.

"It's okay," Steve soothed. He draped the Flash's limp and laden arm around the back of his neck, hauling along his battered form against his torso. Flash's red boots trawled against the snow with light grace of as a small boy, topping and staggering. Every time he breathed, spasms invaded his chest and he'd jerk against Steve, coughing.

"Why are you doing this..." he managed to slew out a few unsteady breaths. "I don't deserve your help. I'm not a hero."

"You save lives in your city by taking the risks of your own life. You're a hero in my eyes, Flash." Steve commended, with a firm voice, making his trek over the snowy landscape, and towards the pavement. "I never leave the little guys behind..."

Flash smiled wryly, "I learned from the best, Cap." He echoed back, and then his eyes closed as he completely entered an unconscious state.

Steve narrowed his crystal blue eyes at the young man, "Don't worry, Flash...Your life is in my hands." he whispered, his voice trailing away in the clusters of falling snow.

He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Natasha's secured, and waited for a light groan of annoyance to invade his ears before saying, "Nat, I need pick up at me triangulated location. I have a severely wounded young man here with me, and he can run everywhere."


	2. Chapter 2

**_{2}_**

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><p><em>"It's okay, my beautiful boy," Nora Allen said, gently dabbing a washcloth over his bruised jaw, blood smeared underneath his nose, and tears rolled down his pallid cheeks. Barry hated defeat. He always looked weak and frail, everything week he'd come home with a bloodied nose, or a few scratches on his tiny face. He had become the prime target for this grade school bully horde. It had become a cold and discomforting feeling to lose a fight when he took a stand, and shielded another boy, smaller than himself in the schoolyard.<em>

_In the result of his defiance, he was thrown to the ground, punched in the stomach, and had his bones jostle with a blow to his jaw. Despite the thralls of lingering pain and brokenness in his body, he never felt more warmth and security to know that he wasn't alone. His light blue eyes fell to his mother's beauty and gentle features, she sat on the edge of his mattress, staring at him with assurance in her angelic blue eyes obscured by long strands of auburn._

__Carefully, she swiped ____the dried blood off his blemished cheek, "I'm proud of you, Barry."__

__Nora smiled sweetly, "You defended another boy from your school when no else did. You were a hero today, Barry." She turned her gaze to the stack of comic books of Captain America on his nightstand. She extended out her hand, and grabbed one from the pile. "I remember when your grandfather gave these to you for Christmas when you were there, you are so excited to read them that you raced into the kitchen and went under the table, and you stay there for heroes reading the wartime adventures of America's greatest hero.__

__She stroked her fingers through his mop of dark hair. "You remind me of Steve Rogers," Barry's blue eyes flickered to the book clutched in her other hand. "He started out just like you did, small and always a target for bullies to pick on, but he never backed down from a fight. He took the punches and stood his ground, and then he was chosen to become Captain America, it wasn't because he was strong and brave, but that he was a good man who fought for the little guys."__

___Barry lowered his eyes to the scraps on his hands, and he sighed, earnestly. "I'm not like Captain America; he doesn't run from a fight. Not like I do."___

____Nora shook her head, softly. "You run, but you always come back, Barry." She leaned forward and pressed a soft on his forehead. "Cap would be proud of you."____

_____Feeling her warmth cloaking around his battered form, Barry's eyes drifted shut, and he whispered, "You're my hero, mom." he smiled weakly. __"Always will be..."_____

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><p>The smell of brewed coffee permeated the air. A dimness of gray morning light filtered from the drapes hung over the frosted windows. The warmth layering blankets toasted remnants of security over his broad flesh, and kept his restless body imprisoned in the folds of sheets. His eyes fluttered open, and eyelashes battered over his cheeks.<p>

Instantly, Barry peeled his eyelids open to reveal bleary grayish irises that held swirls of cobalt under the obscurity cloaked over his bruised face. He blinked, too dazed to care if he still wore the red cowl, but then a faint groan escaped his lips as his hands fumbled over the pillows, and he desperately tried to hide his face the bleak light illumining the now strange room.

"Where am I?" he whispered in a groggy tone, barely familiar to his ears. "What time is it?" He screwed his eyes shut and tried to fall back into the feverish abyss, his temples were pulsing. Exhaustion clawed at him, and he felt pressure in his abdominal muscles.

He endeared pain for fourteen years placed his life on hold and allowed the vengeance of his mother's death consume everything around him. Many of times he wanted to run away from it all when the dull ache reentered his heart, the world had changed in his absence, and divisions were keeping him from taking a stand against fear and guilt. He carried everyone's burdens on his shoulders, observed their emotions, and saving dozens of lives without truly knowing why he was chosen to be struck in that the lightning storm and have his DNA strands altered beyond human coding.

Barry broke sound barriers, punched metal, lost pints of blood during his fights against the mega humans and watched people lose their humanity because of the corruption between choice and power. He still lacked discipline and the tried to avert himself from the impasse of life and death, but he had a heart. That organ that pumped in rapid pulses of speed in his chest was his greatest strength to use when nothing else seemed to matter-no speed force, no recreation of damaged cellular structures or his daring spirit.

When it all mattered, the choices were weaved by unbreakable threads of logical error and free will, he protected lives by racing into the range of the bullet, and taking the pain for them. It was necessary to sacrifice.

_The lightning bolt chose you for a reason. You can do the impossible Barry because you have the heart to._

He didn't want to be awake. He felt defeated. He fought against the dull aches penetrating in his bones, but everything was spinning out of control in his unfocused mind. Swirls of red and flashes of yellow grew violent, and he thrashed his arms up, reaching for something to grasp, to help pull him out of the delirium.

His slender body writhed under the blankets, chest elevated with heavy coattails of breath and light stabbed against his sealed eyelids. Foggy images of Joe and Iris gripped his mind, making him feel like the world was moving fast-forward and he was stuck in slow motion. His heartbeat consumed his ears, as he trembled against the chills, feeling his body regress against the unknown toxin that was shot into him during the fight in the alley back in Central City.

He didn't keep both eyes open, he wasn't a step ahead of the game, and in result of his lack of discipline to judgment, he got wounded severely, and he raced out of the city. He thought his high active metabolism would sweat out the poison, but he made the wrong turn and ended up here in Washington D.C

After meeting Captain Rogers, he blacked out in the snow, and placed his trust into a noble and resilient man he believed in when he was a little boy.

A hand placed a drenched cloth over his forehead. It felt good in the midst of the fever that he fought. "Flash." whispered a familiar masculine voice that was firm and laced with concern.

Involuntary, Barry reacted to the voice, and darted his glazed eyes open, he found himself staring into the crystal blue eyes of his childhood hero. Steve was a vision of sheer radiance against the darkness of his misery. Steve was everything Barry had imagined him to be from the comics, a modern age Adonis-hulking muscles that would intimate the brooding Oliver Queen, stunning blue eyes with clear hope welled in his stern gaze, dirty golden hair that was spiked at the hairline. His chiseled face and the healed scars of his past and guilt.

He was unfocused on his own life, and yet he still protected the lives of strangers with his wits and shield. He was the perfection of valor and heroics, a true patriot and justice fighter. He was Captain America.

"You okay?" Steve addressed with the brush of sincerity in his voice." Last night was a bit rough, but somehow you managed to pull through after a nurse I know extracted the bullet out of you."

"It sure doesn't feel like the bullet was removed, Cap," Barry said through clenched teeth. He lifted himself up, and leaned the muscular planes of his back against the wooden headboard. He took a moment, and released a heavy gulp of air, trying not to convey his defiant exterior in front of Steve. His hand pressed over the cotton gauze swathed over the lower half of his torso. "I didn't mean to ruin your night," he whispered in a hoarse voice, his throat raw and tongue thick as he leveled his stare with Steve's bright eyes. He felt his blood churn under the intense stare of the super-soldier. He choked up his words, almost sounding incoherent. "I had no intention on coming here... It was an accident." he said breathlessly.

Steve shook his head, faintly, "Don't worry about it, Flash. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay." he replied, and placed the cloth into a bowl. "Besides, I don't the mind the company." he tried to strike up a conversion with the young dark haired man, feeling awkward. He curved his lips into a light smirk, and eased back against the chair at the bedside.

"You can heal very fast. The nurse couldn't believe how little time it took for your gunshot wounds to seal up without medication. That's something only a few people that I know can do, but it usually takes a few days. With you it was only two hours."

"My name is Barry Allen, Captain Rogers." the young man begun with his eyes latched onto Steve. "I am the fastest man alive. I wasn't experimented on with injections of the recreation of super-soldier serum. I was hit by lightning that molded particles in my body after the chemicals split over me and I was stuck in a coma for a few months. During that period of stasis, the energy that shot through me altered my DNA and giving me powers that my friends back at Star Labs call speed force." he explained thoroughly, with a bright smile creeping over his lips."I can do the impossible, break the sound barrier, run on water, scale buildings within a second. I don't abuse my powers, I use them to save people... and occasionally defend the little guys in back alleys."

Steve gave him a serious look, his eyebrows creased as he stared down at Barry, "Speed force," he parroted, in a low voice. He placed his fisted hand under his chin, and pondered for a long moment. "That's pretty cool. I can run fast, but I can't break the sound barrier just Sam Wilson's pride during our morning runs. The uniform is what you use has a symbol of freedom in your city?"

Barry drew out a long breath, he had been holding, "Yeah, you can say that," he answered sheepishly, and then suddenly his blue eyes widened as he patted his face, and then he stammered with bedazzlement. "'Wait... My mask?"

"Don't worry, I know how to keep a secret," Steve assured, curling his lip into a firm line. "I made breakfast if you're ready to eat, but don't refuse a meal when you're wounded. It will help keep your strength up."

"I'll take that into consideration, Cap," Barry noted the super-soldier's concern, his eyelids were growing heavy. He felt the bile lapping in his tensed stomach, and he groaned. "How about instead of breakfast... I'll catch up on dinner. I'm buying it because it's the least I can do after you saved me, Captain America."

"I appreciate the offer, Barry," Steve responded in modest voice, placing his hand firmly on the young man's shoulder, "I'm taking care of you while you recover. My kitchen will be always open when you need something. Now, get some rest, I'll be in the living room working out and if you need anything, just call out my name or whatever name comes to mind." he lightly smiled, "I'm glad we finally met each other, "he said sternly. " It's been a long time since I had a good friend staying under my roof."

Barry smiled; he couldn't restrain his jovial emotions. "It's a real honor to have Captain America as a friend, sir-" He slurred as his eyes drifted shut, and he fell back into a deep slumber.

Smiling to himself, Steve lifted the red cowl off the floor, and looked hard at the mask while he whispered, adamantly, "He's a good kid... When he's older Barry will become a great man."

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><p><strong>AN: A big thank you to all the readers. (All spelling edits have been corrected.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**{3}**

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><p>The apartment was absent from sound. It was early Friday morning, most of the bustling traffic faded out. Most of it. Barry staggered down the hallway, half conscious and wincing in pain. Wearing one of Steve's black T-shirts and sweatpants; he paused in front of a framed black and white photograph of the Howling Commando's standing behind Captain America holding the flag of his country. Too many memories were captured in that picture of young soldiers, friends and brothers. He understood the price of freedom since his father was a doctor who befriended war veterans at his practice.<p>

It was a strange feeling and a little overwhelming to believe that he was standing in the home of the greatest American hero, the valiant soldier who led a nation to victory against the Nazis, HYDRA and the murderous and debased mind of Red Skull and saved dozens of lives by carrying his shield into the flames of destruction and guarding the weak and injured with his own body and noble spirit. It was hard to remember what it felt like to be a hero, all the sacrifice and burdens to carry in the seconds when life and death hung in balance. And it was even harder to believe that he was a symbol of freedom, that he could become a great legend if he erased all the doubt in his speeding heart.

Seeing the pictures of Captain America and the entire Commando's he felt an empowering measure of strength, hope and confidence wash over him. He felt renewed by his failures, and couldn't help but pull his lips into a weak smile as his grayish-blue eyes fell onto the towering warrior of justice and peace encased between a barriers of glass. It was a remarkable feeling as his eyes lingered over the photographs of asthmatic shell of a boy wearing a US military uniform that seemed to be too large over his small stature, but the boy's blue eyes held determination and resilience, and that was something Barry needed to gain back before he could decide to race back into battle.

It felt like an infinite chasm dividing him from responsibly and fear. The wounds of his last battle still penetrated deep within him; making him feel drained with no sense of purpose to push back the dread and face the storm.

He felt like a broken man, standing there, staring at true powers without speed force and the haunting images of death of a love one. His youthful face in the reflection of the glass looked...strange. Strange and unfocused. There was no gleam of fire in his seawater colored eyes, just a haze of grayish of a building tempest ravaging and twisting his despondent soul. A harsh thump in his chest and pain emerged in that moment when he forced himself to step an inch closer to the memorabilia of a young and cocky dark haired soldier named James Buchanan Barnes, other known as Bucky. He saw friendship, he saw trust, and he saw a promise. Bucky was smiling, widely and brotherly.

It was everlasting sense of a brother's love, an unbreakable devotion that Barry had never felt because his best friend was Iris, he never had a big brother to turn to when things got dark and bullies pushed him down. He only had Joe, his father figure and guardian -his family. His brave composer, already was shredded by his failures, was failing him, and he dropping his chin to his chest, releasing a sigh of disdain that was unnoticeable.

Then, his eyes peered closer at the most clearest and detailed photo of Barnes, reading the invisible words of the soldier, there was something familiar about him that he couldn't place, he took a moment to register clusters of images from his mind, and then felt a sense of recognition that assailed his heart. He'd seen that expression before on a stranger, Caitlin Snow's fiancé, Ronnie Raymond, a good man who died when he sacrificed his life and his life with Caitlin to contain the pulses of energy. There was something about this man who reminded him of Ronnie, maybe the haunted blue eyes and handsome face...or maybe it was something else.

He blinked quickly and withdrew a step back, and drew out a sharp exhale. "Ronnie..." he whispered out a strained breath, sensing a towering presence behind him. He was hesitant, daring himself to glance around, but he froze up before his eyes roved over his tensed shoulder.

There he was, the incredible man he used to pretend to be as child: Steve Rogers. Barry instantly sagged, his posture, and leaned against the molding of the door as he tried to configure the right emotions to express in front of the super-soldier, after all he did enter a passage of time, well, Steve's time. He steadied his breath, and turned around as his breath hitched, it was obvious that he grew ashamed of his own life, and allowed his voice to stay locked in his throat. Steve gave him a hint of a warm smile. "I see you found some photos of the men of 107th," he said adamantly; down-casting his light cerulean eyes. "They were men who'd lain down their lives to protect the right of freedom. Some paid at a great price and others got rewarded with a good life."

Barry chanced looking at him. Steve wasn't a man to express his inward pain, he kept in buried within, but his misty eyes always betrayed him; even at his greatest strength he felt the anguish of his rectifiable guilt. He didn't wear the radiance of Captain America's semblance; he was different, more natural to the elements of city life. His face cleaned shaven, and his blonde hair unkempt under a dark baseball cap with the symbol of the Avengers etched in the center. He was dressed in a gray hooded sweater and track pants hung smug around his waist, and his skin glazed with feverish sweat, but his stern eyes held their stare on the younger man.

Barry stammered out quickly, "I didn't mean to offend you by looking at these pictures of your friends, Captain Rogers." he said earnestly, in the back of his mind he that it had been a crime of intrusion. He pulled his lips into a frown. Steve was aware of his distress. "It must of have so cool to lead those men into battle; like a mean look at all of you...heroes and friends."

Steve proudly looked at his Howling Commando's, intently gazing at the very picture of his best friend. Then he settled his gaze on the young man standing in front of him. "You're a hero, Barry," he said with a firm measure of admiration in his deep baritone. "Though, you don't dress like a soldier," he stepped closer, and gently placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You are one inside..."

"Coming from you, Cap, I'll believe it," Bucky curved his lips into a small grin that reached his eyes, before he asked the obvious question, "So how did feel transforming into the super-soldier?"

Steve took a deep breath, "Well, it hurt at first with the injections, but I didn't give up the fight, Barry. I was weak in my body, but never in my spirit and held that within me as the pain increased and muscles grew...I never lost myself inside this body. I stayed a good man and held my promise to never allow my true self...You know the skinny kid from Brooklyn to become lost."

Barry stared at him, tears building in his eyes, "My powers weren't given to me by choice," he managed to smirk, despite the invasion of pain coursing through his system, "I'm a scientist, always looking for the impossible because it is what keeps me going...That night after the lightning storm and the surge of power, I thought I died, my heart stopped and I lost all conscious...Until he woke up among good people I have come to care about; people who have lost everything because of miscalculations towards the capacity of human error." Steve furrowed his eyebrows at this, as he continued with more confidence in his voice. "I lost my mother fourteen years ago...She was murdered in front of me, trapped in a vortex of yellow energy and I couldn't save her." He took a moment to breath, to collect himself, and regain his sense of soldiery.

"I have lived with that guilt for a long time, my father was thrown into a prison cell and my life was a standstill that left me alone to solve this mystery. After I got my powers, I understood the reason why the lightning bolt chose me..." he trailed off, his blue eyes fixed at the image display of Captain America. "I've been running all my life and the fears seem to chase after me...I may not be an Avenger, but I know the price you pay when you wear a hero's mantle and sometimes my heart slows down just to feel it." he said with thickness in his throat, he looked disgruntled. "Now, I have a choice to run forward or backwards..."

Steve smiled at that, nodding very subtly at Barry's words, barely feeling the searing coldness of his own past seep back into the guarded shields of his heart. The captain within him saw Barry as a wounded soldier who had lost his way home while the compassionate and caring man that Steve Rogers wanted to reach out to him and offer some cadence of hope as spoke, «The choices you make will define you, son even the bad ones..." he said, gripping Barry's shoulder that forced the younger man to lift his head and stare into the fathomless light shining in his bright eyes. "I understand your pain of losing a loved one when you had a chance to do something..." In that second, he thought of Bucky...Not the lethal killing machine, but his blood brother."You wish every day that you could have taken that extra leap of faith just to hold onto them a second longer..."

"Imagine if we could go back in time and mix everything, I know it sounds impossible because if we did the rifts of time could be effected and future would end up different. Or rather darker than what we've lost." Barry said, moving away from Steve. He had to run. He forced every muscle in his body to jolt, but the virus in the bullet kept him from taking another step. He breathed out a shaky exhale, "My friend Joe is only I have close to father, and my best friend Iris. She's...»

"The right partner?" Steve interrupted, with gleam of utmost understanding in his blue eyes. His lips parted as hint of his suffering escaped as images of Peggy Carter, his love reentered his mind, her bright and fiery brown eyes obscured by chocolate ringlets and red lips. He promised to take her dancing in another lifetime, but time stole her from him, and small part of him felt ashamed and betrayed because he never grabbed the right courage to hold her into an embrace and allow her to lead him into a slow dance. It had been increasingly difficult to see Peggy trapped inside an old woman's body and lost in thralls of dementia, but he kept his promise and every week he paid a visit to her, despite the situation that he couldn't save her from. Now, he finally saw a young man, almost the same age of when he first enlisted, caring and determined to save everyone in his life. He saw himself in Barry, they eyes reflected the other's defeats and victories. "Iris is your best girl that you've promise yourself to dance with?"

Barry winced a little and then lowered his eyes, "If only it were true, Captain Rogers." he sighed, long and hard. "She is someone's best girl, a good man who fights for justice and everything we stand for..." He nearly choked out his words; feeling a dull ache in his chest, and split open his heart. "I just want her to be happy."

"That's only the half of the answer, Barry," Steve replied, staring at him as they both entered momentarily silence. "Someone once told me to always fight," he whispered, even though it was spoken with regret. "I've lost the woman I loved because of sacrifices. I saved the world, but I couldn't save myself from this life of endless war between order and chaos. She had a good life, married a soldier and had a family. Her life was full of accomplishment and fulfillment. I missed it because of my choice to carry out the mission." Steve moved closer to a table underneath a wartime poster of the Commando's and made an effort to lift a tarnished photo frame of Peggy close to his chest. Again he curved his full lips into a frown, and stared at the image. "I wish I could go back in time and take her dancing," he whispered.

Barry inched closer. "There is someone else you want to dance with I think it's the Russian spy who goes on missions with the Avengers. I know she's named after that deadly species of spiders in the Amazon...The Black Widow?" Steve grimaced at that, not because it was true, but because Barry could see right through his emotions. "It's okay, I've got a few partners back in Central City, one of them is this amazing hacker and the other is a doctor who helps me recover from battle...There was one I sort have had deep concern towards because I wanted to save her. She was a young sergeant and also mega human, but her powers were unstable like a time bomb and I watched her die..."

"She died?"

"Yeah," Barry answered with faint brush of remorse in his voice. "She was corrupted with revenge and in result of her choice she got herself killed, and I had to race into the water far away from my city and place her in the deep because if I didn't the mass of her body exploding would have destroyed everyone in matter of seconds...Her name was Plastique."

Steve nodded, quietly, "I know that feeling of loss," he said, crossing his broad arms over his chest. His eyes stung. He couldn't help it. "It seems to me that you suffered a lot in a short period of time...I have a friend would might have been able to help this Plastique, but I think in a way Barry you already saved her."

Barry stood tall, basking in the presence of his hero, and felt his strength slowly returning to him. "I think there's a reason why I've come here, Captain Rogers, my friend Joe says there is always a reason, I never use to believe in those words, but now I do." He couldn't make himself say anything more, to give the captain before him the honest truth that suddenly became a painful knot in his throat. He smiled reassuringly, and walked over to Steve, placing his hand on the super-soldier's shoulder; feeling the strength and surges of power. Silently, he looked up at Steve; he didn't have to say anything. He knew that they both needed a friend to guide them across the battlefield. And he was going to be Captain America's friend.

"Now, do you want some breakfast?" Steve asked, gesturing a hand towards the kitchen. "I can make you anything you want..."

"A dozen pancakes?" Barry laughed, trying to ease off the tension in the air between them. "Lots of coffee.."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, amazed at Barry's request, and then mirrored his laugh, "Let me guess, you have a high metabolism?"

Barry shrugged, with a sheepishly grin, "Yeah, I can't even get drunk if I tried...I burn everything out."

_Sounds familiar..._

"Come on, son," Steve begun to walk towards the kitchen area, listening to Barry's hushed footsteps behind him. "I'll make you a big breakfast."

Barry smiled; he couldn't help it, "Just gave me the orders of what you want me to do in the kitchen, Cap."

Steve turned around, with a daring smirking playing on his lips, "How fast can you set a-"

_*Whosh*_

Before he could take a step forward, a red blur invaded his kitchen and plates, glasses and silverware were placed on the table. Steve stood in the hall, dumbstruck as his blue eyes trained on Barry sitting in chair with a glass of orange juice in his hand. He nodded with an amused grin, and said under his breath, "That fast..."

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you to everyone for reading and following this story. Lots more to come.**


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